


Love Bites

by BarPurple



Series: Halloween House of Horror 2018 [11]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Major Character Injury, Mentions of Blood, vampire!Molly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-05 00:39:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16357292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BarPurple/pseuds/BarPurple
Summary: Another day in London, and another life or death situation for Sherlock.





	Love Bites

She’d thought the anguished screaming and swearing could only belong to John Watson. It came as a surprise when she skidded into Accident and Emergency to find John tight lipped as he held Lestrade in a bear hug.

“Get the fuck off me John!”

Greg was fighting hard through the tears. Molly’s stomach lurched as her heightened senses informed her that the blood her friend was covered in was not his own.  
Sherlock. That was Sherlock’s blood.

“What happened?”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at the Authority she threw into those words. She wasn’t cleared to use her Blood Given Abilities in public, but right now the Lore could go hang. Greg twisted out of John’s grip and staggered to a halt less than a foot from her.

“That crazy bastard took a knife for me. I was in body armour and he wasn’t. Molly get in there and save him.”

She didn’t need to look at Mycroft, she could hear him roll his eyes.

“Doctor Hooper is hardly the specialist Sherlock needs at the moment Detective Inspector.”

Considering the snarled expletive from John, he’d not picked up on the tremor in Mycroft’s voice. As cold as the Ice Man sounded right now, he was scared, and that told Molly just how bad this situation was for Sherlock. Molly wanted to fly to Sherlock’s side, but the pounding beat of Greg’s heart stopped her as he stepped in closer to her.

“Molly. I know what you are. Make him one too. Save him so I can smack him around the head for being such an idiot. Please.”

“Erm, what the hell are you talking about?”

She had to smile at John’s attempt at ignorance. He’d known for months about her vampiric status but bless him he was still trying to protect her secret even now. With a precise click of umbrella on tiles Mycroft stepped forward and placed a hand on Greg’s shoulder; “I suspect you’re in shock Detective Inspector. You’re babbling nonsense.”

Greg didn’t break eye contact with Molly as he grabbed Mycroft’s hand and twisted. Mycroft swore under his breath, but managed to stay upright, just.

“If you think I don’t know about the vamps in this bloody city then you are as thick as you must think I am.”

Molly took hold of Greg’s hand and gently prised his fingers free from Mycroft’s wrist; “I’ll do it. If he consents.”

 

The British Government worked his own brand of magic, while clutching his sprained wrist to his chest, and cleared Sherlock’s room. Molly sighed as she assessed the state Sherlock was in; he was paler than she’d every seen him, with dark bags under his eyes, his hair lank with sweat and he was hooked up to IV’s that were only a stop gap measure. 

He was dying. And he still managed to open his eyes and give her a smile.

“Not much of a meal. Left most of it in a Soho doorway. Sorry.”

She laughed even though tears had started to drip from her eyes; “I can fix that, fix you. If that’s what you want?”

They had talked about this, about her Turning him. They had always decided to wait, for a million little reasons that Molly couldn’t remember right now and didn’t care about. She’d said yes when he’d asked her to help him fake his death, and now she was asking to kill him, and it would destroy her if he said no.

Sherlock nodded his head; “It’s time I join you in the twilight Molly love.”

She laughed again; “Knew I’d regret letting you watch those films.”

Molly shrugged out of her cardigan and rolled up her sleeve. As she leaned into him Sherlock turned his head into her shoulder and pointed a weak hand towards his throat.

“Take a sip first.”

It wasn’t a prerequisite to drink from someone before you Turned them, but it was traditional, and a little bit romantic. She let her fangs drop and brushed her hand across his pulse. Sherlock whispered her name as she bit into his neck. She only took a tiny sip, barely enough to moisten her tongue before she pulled back and bit open her own wrist. His eyes fluttered shut as he latched on to the wound and for the second time in his life Sherlock Holmes died. And for the second time he would rise again.


End file.
